


Voyeuristic Intentions

by KylaraIngress



Series: Feedback Universe [1]
Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, POV First Person, PWP, mid-leap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3253430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KylaraIngress/pseuds/KylaraIngress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Al's hologram has an interesting side effect that is noticed by Sam on a leap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voyeuristic Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> Written in late 2001, and publishing now as part of "Throwback Thursdays". Previously published in _Variations on a Theme: Rocky Horror Picture Show_. I also nicknamed this my "how many different ways can I say 'masturbate'" challenge.

_It's so dreamy,  
_ _Oh, fantasy free me!  
_ _So you can't see me, no not at all.  
_ _In another dimension,  
_ _with voyeuristic intentions,  
_ _Well secluded, I see all.  
_ – _"The Time Warp"_

I don't know exactly when it started, me watchin' Sam at night. I do know it started gradually, coming out of my fear – however irrational – that something would happen to him when I wasn't there.

God knows I had proof: seems like all the bad stuff that happened to the kid occurred when I was away, trying to get data from Ziggy or sittin' in boring meetings with Weitzman trying to get more funding.

Nevertheless, I found more and more of my nights were now being spent in the IC, watching Sam sleep. It was becoming addictive, and it was starting to affect my work. It had even attracted Bena's attention, and while she didn't outright ask (I think she learned her lesson after that whole Samantha Stormer incident), I could see her givin' me the eye any time we passed in the hall.

But as much as I didn't know when it started, I know exactly when it changed into something . . . more.

I had learned to shield my image from him; no need for him to freak out about my nightly visits. As a result, there were a few times when I'd come in and he wasn't quite asleep yet. Sometimes, he was with a woman; others, he just couldn't get to sleep; and one time, a couple of months ago, he had been . . . shall we say . . . otherwise engaged.

I had walked into 'his' bedroom, and was caught short by the sight of him, sprawled naked on top of the bed spread, one hand fisting his cock and the other doing a jerking caress on his thighs and chest.

I was dumbstruck. I mean, I knew he was a guy, and like every guy he's got needs, but this was Sam we were talkin' about. The ultimate choirboy and Boy Scout, all wrapped into one. And while part of me was . . . well, embarrassed (shafting the pole is one of the most private acts, after all), part of me was . . . well, turned on. He was absolutely gorgeous laying there, his chest heaving with his effort, his eyes closed in apparent passion, his lips silently mouthing something. And the 'little Admiral' seemed to be enjoying the show as well, as I felt my cock start to harden at the visual in front of me.

I must've made a slight gasp or something, for Sam suddenly stopped, looking around. "Al?" he asked, trying to figure out if he really had heard something. After all, he's probably the only man in history that actually can come up with a plausible excuse for all those odd sounds you hear in a house. I held my breath, not wanting him to know I was here. I wasn't quite sure as to why, though. Was it because I didn't want him knowing I came and watched him like this, or was it because I didn't want him to stop? (Or even worse, was it because I didn't want to know what his reaction to my getting turned on by it would be?)

Obviously used to me popping in at the least warning, Sam wasn't quite positive he hadn't heard anything. He stood up, grabbing a robe from the nearby closet door, and put it on. "Al, you here?" he asked, and managed to walk right through me.

Now, there was actually one piece of Swiss cheese memory about the project I was glad he never seemed to remember. The initial hologram was set up for some slight (and I do mean slight) 'feedback' from the surrounding images. With a flick of a button, while you still couldn't touch anything, you could make impressions – know whether that was silk or cotton someone wore, smell if it was tea or coffee brewing. For the most part, I kept it off – it was just too distracting, having all these sensations and not being able to do anything about it. But I did turn it on every once in a while, when a leap was especially hard, and sometimes it worked too well.

Like then, when his semi-naked body walked right through mine. I had forgotten that I had turned it on earlier in the hopes it would help determine why Sam was in this leap. I stifled the groan of pleasure his body stirred in mine as best I could, but he was already intent on listening.

"Al!" This time, there was no question about it.

There had been only one thing to do.

With a push of a button, I was out the IC door.

We had finished the leap without discussing the incident; obviously, he was too shy to admit he had been spankin' the monkey in order to ask if I had really been there that night, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna mention it. After all, what could I say?

But the images and sensations from that night had permanently implanted themselves into my brain, and I found myself starting to . . . fantasize. About Sam.

During the downtime between that leap and the next, I investigated ways to shield the sound as well as visuals from Sam, and by the next time I went into the IC to watch him sleep, I was well prepared for a good night of viewing.

Unfortunately for my sudden capitulation to my libido, Sam seemed to have no desire to jerk the gerkin during that leap, and it made me start to wonder about my intentions. Here I was, ready to watch my best friend, a guy to boot, get it on with himself. While I didn't consider myself strictly heterosexual, it had been a long time since I had found another guy desirable. And I've known Sam for a good chunk of my life, now. He had never turned me on before.

All I knew was that the picture of Sam pleasuring himself had been the hottest thing I had ever seen, and you're listenin' to a guy who's got an award-winning porn collection stashed in his closet. And I couldn't see him any other way now.

If he realized somethin' was up, he did a good job of hiding it. He didn't seem to notice that I 'walked' through him on more occasions, didn't detect my intense interest in him when he was getting ready for bed (or the shower), and definitely didn't seem to notice my tales of female companionship had dropped drastically. I tried remembering the circumstances of that one leap, tried figuring out why it had been then he had decided to 'milk the lizard', as it were, and couldn't come up with anything that was specific. I was close to givin' up, ready to go back to bein' the heterosexual lovin' machine that we all know and love.

Until, that is, it happened again.

Actually, though, this time, I wasn't comin' in to watch him sleep. This time, I had some minor details regarding the leap, so I was all set for waiting until he was ready.

Apparently, he was already ready, though, for I walked through the wall and stopped in shock as he once again lay on the bed, boldly naked, givin' his little guy a slight hand-to-hand action.

It took all of a half of a minute before I could form words again, not able to hide my reaction to him. I ended up stammering something that sounded similar to, "Uhbi-da, foozle goff."

"Al," Sam said, not shocked, not surprised, not embarrassed . . . not stopping what he was doing below the waist.

"Frigud smarmalade," I responded, still in confusion-eze, not sure if I was more shocked at the dazzling display in front of me or the fact that he hadn't stopped (and showed no intention of stopping). I cleared my throat, and forced my eyes to painfully look away as Sam gave a lustful groan at my reaction, and tried again. "Sam?" I asked, wincing at the frog that was suddenly lodged in my throat.

"You like what you see, Al?" he asked me, his voice husky and his eyes slit with desire. I had no idea what was going on, but I could no more stop my head nodding in ascension than I could the world spinning on its axis. "I thought so," he playfully growled. "You wanna join me, lover?"

L . . . l . . . lover??? "Heja hoobie?" I asked, back in confusion-eze faster than lightning. What the fuck was going on????

Somehow, though, he understood my question, as he always understood what I was trying to say. He slowed his stroke, moving his hand up to touch his chest, his nipples. "I had a dream last night," he said, bringing his fingers up to his lips, which he then kiss-sucked a brief bit before returning his hand back to his chest. "Of us. Making love. During a leap."

"Huh?" I asked in lieu of the many other questions I had. As far as I knew, we had never made love in a prior leap. Thought about it plenty in the past few weeks, but never . . . .

"I'm 100% positive it's a memory," he continued, despite my denials. "I had wondered what was up that time you watched me masturbate, but now I know."

He knew about me watchin'? "Boojjie fats?" I continued my questioning. Man, I haven't been this tongue-tied since I proposed to Beth!

"I felt it when I walked through you," he supplied as an answer. "That made me realize that at least then, my desires for you were mutual."

"Desires?" I squeaked. Good. I could still speak. Not well, but still . . . .

"I've wanted you for a long time, Al," he said, making his lower hand move faster, his eyes burning into my soul, "more than I've wanted anyone else." He continued to beat the bishop, saying, "I know we can't touch, love, but we can pretend, can't we?"

I felt my jaw drop in shock. I had no idea what alternate dimension I had slipped into, but I wasn't gonna argue when the man I had been fantasizing about the last few times I had choked the chicken actually wanted me with him. And despite every argument I presented to myself, I had felt myself harden at the visual of him, milking his cock (bet those damn cows of his were really givin' milk on the farm!), his other hand caressing his chest, occasionally tweaking his nipples, and his eyes giving me one of the most lustful stares I had ever received. So, I let the Calavicci way take over, and the next thing I knew, I had pushed a few buttons on the handlink to let me lie down next to him, and finally pushed that button that let 'feedback' filter through. And oh, Jesus, what feedback! Each hair on his chest was like fine silk, and each time I crossed into his body, I felt a sense of erotica that put all other encounters to shame. Especially when he took one hand and brushed it over my (still clothed) lower half. "You're too dressed," he sighed, stopping his other hand enough to gently brush into the image of my chest.

What in the hell happened to the man I nicknamed the Prudent Prince? But, I realized that the way Sam and his memory was, this would probably be my only chance to try something I would never have the guts to try if he were home. If he Swiss cheesed it, I could bear it (I've had worse secrets from him, after all). And we cared about each other too much to let it get awkward. I pocketed the handlink and threw off my jacket, deciding – as always in this kind of situation – I would ask questions later. It was like a dream come true, and I knew what happened when you questioned daydreams too much.

"Oh, God, Sam," I whispered, and gave a leer as I saw him shiver at my voice again. "Sammy," I growled again, to see if it was a coincidence – and it wasn't, for his whole body quivered at the intimate tone.

"Oh, God, Al," he parroted. "Do you know how long I've wanted this? Wanted you?"

I didn't want to stop and examine this. So, I shushed him, moving my hands to undo my shirt and slacks. And I finally broke that final barrier as I leaned down, and attempted a ghost-kiss.

It was like he was really there; I swear I could feel his lips against mine, and despite the fact that from an outside perspective it may have looked like two people practicing kissing alone, I felt my tongue wanting to explore that deep recess of a mouth. Suddenly, I didn't care that we were both men, didn't care what society (and the Navy) said about that type of relationship, and didn't care that this was some bizarro-world where Sam was the letch. All I cared about was that I was loving the one person that had consistently stayed by my side, the one person I could trust and count on, the one person . . . the one person I truly loved.

I tell ya, I got even harder.

I broke away to quickly undress, and once again lay down, feeling his form merge with mine, bringing us both to new heights in erotica. Rubbing myself up against his holographic form, I could feel every fiber in his being merge and intertwine with mine. I could feel his hand reaching down, attempting to touch me in that most sacred of places. But, despite the feedback, there was no weight, no pressure, to his hand as it brushed up against my cock. So, I gave him a half-smile and motioned for him to work on himself. And as I watched him do as I asked, I moved my own hand down to my straining erection.

We stayed like that for an unknown amount of time, moving up against each other, cresting, watching each other, and I never felt so at peace with someone.

But as calming as it was, some serious lovin' needed to get done, and passion is anything but peaceful. Soon, desire overrode control, lust overrode love, and our merging became frantic.

Soon, I forgot that we were not in the same time and place, and it was just like we were together. The visual of being inside him that flittered across my mind was the final straw, and I came with abandon. My hoarse shout of need ended up being the trigger for Sam's as he followed quickly with an unintelligible shout.

I rolled over onto my back, gasping with spent desire and energy. "That . . . was . . . ."

"Amuggawoogle?" he supplied with a smirk.

"Very funny," I groused.

"Actually, it is – that I could make you speechless with desire is quite funny. And a major turn on to boot."

Okay, time to figure out what the hell was going on. "This turned you on?"

"Duh! Hello? Where have you been for the last fifteen minutes?" he asked with a smirk. "I've never been turned on this much in my life."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. I mean, I've imagined what it would be like with you, but this . . . ."

"You've imagined? This?!"

"For a long time now. I was just afraid to tell you."

"That I'd be mad with you? That I'd hate you?"

"Maybe a little of both," he said with a grin. "Plus, what if I'd Swiss cheese it again?"

Again? Oh, shit. "Uh, Sam?"

"Yes, lover?"

I turned to him, ready to tell him that dream was just that – a dream – when I saw what was reflected in his eyes. I saw myself, and could see how much I truly loved this man. "You know I could never be mad at you," I finally fudged. Well, hell – who's to say this version wouldn't stick around?

"Al?" he started.

"Yeah, babe?" I asked, wondering what was up now.

"Remind me. If I forget again. Please?"

"You know I can't promise that, Sam," I sighed. "You're such a Boy Scout, kid – what would you do if your goal involved making love, to a man or a woman?"

He brought his hand up to where he carefully 'brushed' my chest. "Convince you to help turn it into really making love?"

I shivered at the touch. Or was it at the admission, however backward, that he did love me? There was so much he didn't know about me, didn't remember. So much of himself. But if there was one thing I learned over the past couple of days, it was who truly owned my heart. "I promise I'll do the best I can," I finally said. "Just as much as your promise with regards to coming home."

He placed his hand over the vicinity of my heart – I could feel the heat through time and space. "I'll do my best, lover."

And I smiled, knowing that even if this was a glimpse into another dimension, it had made me see everything clearly for one moment.

**Fini – 12/28/01**

 


End file.
